skip to Main Content

re:Virals 322

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly poem commentary feature on some of the finest haiku ever written in English. This week’s poem was

 
     in my hand
     as if it could last . . .
     hailstone
          — Kath Abela Wilson, Frogpond, Volume 44:3 (2021)

Nick T is delighted:

This poem delights in some many ways. There is a beautiful sense of lightness created by such a delicate, transient image. Also, I love the way the contrast between the warmth of the hand and the cold of the hailstone engages my sense of touch. But, for me, this poem stands out because of its mujō, a quality of impermanence or transience expressed in the second line where the use of an ellipsis as the kireji further emphasizes the brief passage of time before the hailstone melts. A lovely, delicate poem which captures the moment with child-like clarity. Thank you, Peggy, for choosing this delightful haiku.

Lakshmi Iyer observes the inanimate:

We always build stories of the animate, those things with life force, their impact, effects and causes. But do we think of the inanimate forms that are natural phenomena on earth and which bring such a difference to nature’s conservation and destruction?

The poet is very much aware of hailstones and that they never last long. And yet she has so cleverly included “in my hand/ as if it could last.” Nothing is permanent. It is this beauty of impermanence that we get caught up in, and we try to pacify ourselves about the possibility of an impossible act: to catch hold of a hailstone. It is just a clumsy piece of ice, and yet how fond we are of it. It is this child-like act and innocence that lifts up this poem.

Sushama Kapur considers what’s ephemeral:

Could there be a tussle of sorts in the first two lines? Of conviction (that something ephemeral has the ability to last forever) and doubt supported by logic and scientific knowledge. How could a hailstone last? It will surely melt, given that it is being held in the hand of a warm-blooded mammal.

It’s a beautiful poem: tender, a little sad and regretful. And wishful, too. This little hailstone, a gift from the skies, the poet wishes would stay on, it looks so right on the palm: “as if it could last.”

But like everything else on earth, its life is time-bound. The ellipsis perhaps marks the period of time it does remain on the hand. And surely this moment is captured, to live on in the mind and heart of the poet . . . and now in this haiku!

Keith Evetts is engaged by contrast:

Hailstones (arare) are a kigo or season word for winter, and so they have appeared in many a haiku, generally exploiting their implacable sound (on Basho’s cypress-slat hat, for example), or their hard, cold quality on impact that must be accepted along with better things in Santoka’s begging bowl; occasionally, as fallen jewels for children to play among, in one of Basho’s more lyrical moments. But I am not aware of other examples where their impermanence is highlighted as in Kath Abela Wilson’s excellent haiku. Here, the cold hardness of hail is juxtaposed with the warmth of a hand, an instability that extends the scene beyond the moment into the future. The tiny sketch of the hailstone and the hand is opened up by the middle line: “as if it could last,” an invitation to the author and the reader to meditate. And the magic word is “it”!

“It” could be the hailstone, the cold inanimate ice; or life itself embodied in the warm human hand. In the warmth, the hailstone will quickly melt away as the author watches. But how long before the hand itself becomes cold ice? As if life could continue forever.

I once sheltered from a storm in Mozambique where the hailstones reached a measured four-and-a-half inches. One of them lasted for a very long time in our freezer. But like all things, it came to an end.

virus2
As this week’s winner, Keith gets to choose next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be as long or short, academic or spontaneous, serious or silly, public or personal as you like. We will select out-takes from the best of these. And the very best will be reproduced in its entirety and take its place as part of the THF Archives. Best of all, the winning commentator gets to choose the next poem for commentary.

Anyone can participate. A new poem will appear each Friday morning. Simply put your commentary in the Contact box by the following Tuesday midnight (Eastern US Time Zone). Please use the subject header “re:Virals” so we know what we’re looking at. We look forward to seeing some of your favorite poems — and finding out why!

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

re:Virals 323:

 
     cold moon —
     a moment of hesitation
     years ago
          — John Stevenson, The Heron's Nest, Volume VIII, Number 4 (2006)

This Post Has 3 Comments

  1. Dear Keith Evetts,
    Congratulations. in your analysis, the following lines are quite
    striking.

    “Here, the cold hardness of hail is juxtaposed with the warmth of a hand, an instability that extends the scene beyond the moment into the future.”

    1. Thank you, Radhamani. Like many good haiku this one can stimulate more meanings as you continue to come back to it. This morning, I was thinking that the hard ice could also represent misfortune, and that troubles melt away with time. Or, if you see the hailstone as a shining little jewel, as a gift, as something from the heavens – why, they too melt away with time…..

      The second line is what works the magic in this haiku, between the images.

      And thank you, Theresa.

  2. re:Virals 322:

    in my hand
    as if it could last . . .
    hailstone
    — Kath Abela Wilson, Frogpond, Volume 44:3 (2021)

    Delighted to view and comment a senryu by Kath Abela Wilson, in this
    Winter season, hailstone. In India, now it is raining dogs and cats, when
    roads are inundated with water, umbrellas all round twist and blow and
    and at times knobs get shrunk putting the person in dire difficulty and
    growing discomfiture. But no idea of hail stone so far.

    The term hailstorms, hailstones, hurricanes, blizzards, require a deep
    Geographical study, for a better understanding, unless we experience in
    day to day lives. Or at least a close observation releases new ideas ,forms,
    leading us to know further and more and more.

    Beginning in the first person, giving more room for speculation for readers,
    to know what is that “ as if it “

    “ in my hand
    as if it could last . . .”…
    yes, what is that “it “ could be, what is that , could last, and so why and how. Is it a small kitten staying in hand, a coin, currency, a small kerchief, or cake or rolling pen; all in the persona’s hand? but the suspense is only for a short while, for we get to know “it “ refers to a hailstone. The speaker is holding a frozen drop of water, from cloud, solidified, a hails tone, it is dropped from clouds. The solidified ice has fallen into her hand, make the persona feel its time and stay. Perhaps the speaker refers to the thickness, its solidity, a pictorial image is crafted, in the frozen fallen drop, Called hailstone. But the reality is that hailstone could not, would not last, soon to melt , that is what
    Is implied. Such a beauty to hold.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Back To Top